


Perpetual Bliss

by Wolfgang von Cemetery (enemy_xands)



Series: Queens of the Desert Underground [3]
Category: Lucha Underground
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathroom Sex, Bruises, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Painplay, Possible Spoilers, Sensation Play, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemy_xands/pseuds/Wolfgang%20von%20Cemetery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black aesthetics, and pain--Jack learns exactly what gets his partner off</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perpetual Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> After ep 2x20 I thought to myself, man I'm ready to get aboard the Black/Evans train (I'm ready for any Justin Gabriel/PJ Black fic really)
> 
> ...
> 
> ...I dunno, I was watching movies and looking at things on line and suddenly this turned into a very aesthetic piece. What do little Darewolves dream of??

All PJ wanted to do was sink into an ice cold pool of water and quite possibly float there forever.

What he got, instead, was a haphazard array of bandages across most of his torso and shoulder, and a bag of ice. A bag he had opened up to ice down his partner, Jack. On Jack's command, of course.

Well, Jack had asked in a nicer way than normal. Instead of, "fuckin' ice me down", he'd gone for the more demure, "ice me down, would ya?" It was the cadence PJ appreciated. Made him feel like Jack only trusted him to do it.

Jack only trusted him anyway. Maybe Mundo. Definitely not Taya. And that was about it.

PJ worked hard to earn that trust, and he wasn't going to throw it away by selfishly hogging his ice cubes. He could get more from downstairs. They were at his place for the night, so Jack's soft hisses and subconscious grunts were all his.

"You're on my nipple, asshole."

"Ah. Whoops."

Jack just gave a wiggle-shrug combo and fidget in his seat some more. "Whatever, just...get the big part. Nunchucks fuckin' _hurt_ , man."

"That's why we used 'em, innit?"

"Yeah, but to hurt the other guys. Not be hurt by them."

PJ shuddered at the memory of wood whacking against flesh; that was a desire he'd suppressed for a long time, until he couldn't in the heat of battle and he disassociated right out of his own skin so badly the last thing he remembered was catching Jack from the rafters.

But, blow after blow. The memory made his wounds throb again. Blow after blow and his head grew fuzzier, his breaths came shorter, and the lights grew dimmer. And he kept going _back_ , teasing the sensation again to see if it could get brighter each time.

They'd carried each other out, because that's what friends do.

Jack cupped his hand over PJ's as he dragged the ice across a long, angry purple streak.

"There."

PJ obeyed and let his arm drag slower until he stopped in the middle. Jack stiffened up and hissed loudly, followed by a swear for punctuation. He finally relaxed and let PJ's hand go.

"Thanks, I'm good."

PJ nodded and stood up, somewhat awkwardly. His knees were asleep from being on the floor so long. He took the ice bag down to the kitchen and dumped it out into the sink, ran hot tap water over it and watched the individual pieces melt down the drain.

He was still holding on to the sliver of ice he'd used on Jack's body. When he pressed it against his tongue, it still tasted like salt. He bit down and crunched, pretended it was skin.

And when he was dealing the blows? The nunchaku in his hands vibrated with each slap against flesh. The cries from his opponents and the roars of the audience from behind. The confused rage in Drago's eyes as he choked him out made him swell uncomfortably.

He must have been there a long time, because the next thing he heard was Jack asking him how long he was going to run up the water bill. He looked up and Jack had completely changed clothes.

Jack's pajamas made him look like a little kid: an over-sized shirt featuring some reference to weed combined with a cartoon, shorts that rode up, flashing scandalous peeps of well-toned thigh. PJ snickered behind his hand.

"I'm hittin' the ol' bath."

Jack pushed his hand against PJ's chest, frustratingly gentle so as not to cause any pain and yet enough to stop him.

"You okay, em-eight?"

PJ rolled his eyes. Why did no one understand drastic continental differences? "Hundreds, all things considered. Mate."

Jack eyed him skeptically. Obviously, they were both in quite a bit of pain to the point where simply not living was the only cure. But PJ seemed even less there than he usually was, and that was saying something. What's more, he appeared to be blatantly ignoring Jack.

PJ moved past Jack towards the bathroom. The tub took up most of the real estate in the tiny washroom, to the point where PJ had suggested perhaps they put the toilet on the ceiling for their own comfort. But tonight, he was grateful for the space to actually stretch his legs.

Once the door was closed, he set to ritual. He slowly, slowly removed the bandages, revealing inch by inch of pale flesh blending into swollen peaks of bright pink and red. Some had already faded to purple. Some looked like gashes, as if he'd been hacked away at and not hit with blunt objects. He gently rubbed over the swollen points and sighed.

He ran the tap, cool enough to be comfortable and maybe even sting a little, but not too cold. He hunted around for his jar of salts. A fan had passed him a sample, once, of a bag of pure black bath salts that didn't stain his skin. Usually, he was quite wary of gifts from fans, especially ones that had to go on his body. Fit his aesthetic, they'd said. Too right. They didn't soothe him any more or any less but damn did it look cool.

When he dumped the salts in and stepped into the pitch black watery abyss, he no longer felt like an aching mortal but a weary god waiting for his healing to begin.

The water and salts pricked and stung his skin deliciously; he closed his eyes and temporarily drifted off, dreaming of violent canings and open handed slaps.

A sharp sound pierced his dreams. He whipped up quickly, black water rolling from his scalp onto his chest. He didn't have to look around much to see Jack taking a piss right in front of him. Aesthetic ruined.

"Come on."

"I told you I was coming in," Jack said, annoyed. He moved to the sink to wash his hands. "I even said your bath looked cool. Where the hell'd you get black stuff from?"

"Bought em online. I didn't hear you, obviously."

Jack clicked his tongue. He let his eyes roam over PJ's body, black water crashing against his knees poking up through the surface as he took deep, rapid breaths. He grinned at something _else_ surfacing too, clearly his partner hadn't noticed. Therefore Jack would make a big deal of it.

"I'll let you get back to your happy time..." he said slyly, pointing. PJ followed his fingers and scoffed.

"Fok."

Jack's fingers skimmed the water but he quickly retracted. "Christ, that water is cold. How can you get it up in there?"

PJ shrugged. "I'm talented."

Jack got to his knees next to the tub. "I'm impressed."

PJ smirked a little and laid back as Jack's hands touched his sensitive areas, made even more sensitive again. There were a few older scars too that had come back to life, such as the ones across his shoulders. Jack bravely let his hands dip back into the chilled water to caress PJ's thighs and the base of his cock.

PJ pushed his hands away, eyes still closed, lazy smirk still on his face.

"Nuh-uh."

"What do you mean? Look how hard you are."

PJ brought Jack's fingers up to his lips and popped them in his mouth. "Buh thatsh not gonna get it."

Jack yanked his fingers away and exhaled through his nose. PJ, laughing, took his hand back and guided it to his throat. He let his own hands fall away, sink back into the black.

Jack sighed. Of course PJ couldn't have normal sex. This was the guy that did unnecessary backflips out of airplanes for fun. A little in and out wasn't going to be enough. And yet, the danger...or, perhaps, the trust made him curiouser and curiouser.

PJ grunted his impatience. Jack tested him with a hard squeeze that made the other man's eyes flutter open and roll back, a long moan that sounded like life escaping his lungs. But he didn't resist. He tensed up but didn't pull away or fight back. Jack let go and PJ slumped against the back of the basin. The slight tremors in the water indicated he was trembling ever so slightly.

Jack pushed a thumb into a fresh-looking bruise and PJ cried out. He'd spent most of the summer trying to figure out how to make PJ scream his name in whatever languages he knew, and all he had to do was _hurt_ him. So he wasted no time tearing the other man down, raking his hands over swollen ridges and probably creating a few new ones with his jagged nails. PJ thrashed and flailed, sending black water spilling all over the tile and rugs.

"You fuckin' like that? You want more?"

When PJ nodded, Jack latched onto a nipple with sharp teeth and bit down; PJ howled and gripped the edges of the tub.

Jack snatched his shirt off and pressed his lips to PJ's in one fluid motion. The room itself was warming up, the room temperature water now ice cold against his arms and elbows. A good portion of it was on the floor now, staining his favorite pair of cargo shorts but if he'd noticed he wouldn't have cared.

His teeth clamped down hard on PJ's neck, hard enough for forensic evidence, perfect little red imprints of his teeth in PJ's skin. For weeks surely, maybe months, maybe forever. He was so very tempted to drop his hands to PJ's cock and squeeze his orgasm out of him, but he kept his hands on the bruising, massaging and rubbing in circles and never letting go with his mouth as PJ squirmed above him and jerked.

Jack thought he could come from the obscene moans in his ears. The way he was leaking told him he was close.

He sat back and struck PJ across the chest, a classic chop that satisfyingly took his breath away and left him with a look of pain and confusion. PJ doubled over and Jack pulled him back again for another chop. PJ thought he saw at least ten years of his life flash white before his eyes as he shuddered and came, milky white disappearing into the black water.

Jack let him drop back and slump down until only part of his face was visible.

"I always get the freaky ones," Jack groaned, although he wasn't really complaining. "Is that all that gets you off?"

"Fuck, no. Far from it." PJ pulled the plug out of the drain and stood up. Jack licked some of the black droplets that rolled down his legs. PJ laughed and nudged him away. "Guess you'll find out later."

"What!" Jack struggled to stand up with his erection in the way. "You can't just leave me hanging."

"I've already fuckin' caught you once tonight, give me a break."

"Come on. Comeoncomeon!"

PJ loved Jack whiny and needy, and he almost always was. He backed the other man against the wall, knee planted between his legs. Jack whimpered and ground against it in a pitiful attempt at relief.

"I don't...want it that way!"

PJ leaned in close to his ear. "Should have finished when I did."

Jack really preferred when he was the one in control, but PJ whispering dirty things to him was scrambling his brain to make him think he liked being helpless. His eyes burned and he took deep gulps of air. He was so fucking close he could taste it, but PJ seemed content to laugh and pull away right before he could finish every time.

"Aww, you wanna come?"

Jack grit his teeth so hard he tasted blood. " _Yes_."

PJ helpfully added his hand, and Jack clutched at his back, whimpering and whining until he came, further damaging his favorite shorts.

He was sore and couldn't really take anymore fun, so PJ let Jack drop to the ground unceremoniously.

"Shit, dude, that ain't how you treat a lady!'

PJ wanted to shrug, but his joints were growing unpleasantly stiff by the minute. All he wanted to do _now_ was lay down until the end of time. He waited for Jack to get up so that they could support each other across the hall to the bedroom. The two of them collapsed on the cloud-soft mattress and laid there as if the rigor mortis had set in.

"Well," Jack said, breaking the silence, "I'm glad we got that out of the way...while we still could..."

PJ nodded and closed his eyes. His dreams were still of brutality and hard hits against skin, but now mingled with pools of black water and teasing his partner to tears. That would last him until he could move his arms again.


End file.
